


Norman Dike was lost again.

by newredshoes



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Bastogne, Crack, Gen, Humor, Twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-15
Updated: 2009-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 13:43:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newredshoes/pseuds/newredshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was, he'd been led to believe, most problematic. More adventures with <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/138004">Twitterized Lipton</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Norman Dike was lost again.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skew/gifts).



Norman Dike was lost again.

This was, he'd been led to believe, most problematic.

Dike was nothing if not a leader, though. He knew exactly what to do in a situation like this.

"First Sergeant Lipton!"

The woods were silent, save for, somewhere out of sight, that little radioman whom Dike had never seen without a cigarette. Dike planted his feet in the snow and his gloved hands on his hips. "First Sergeant Lipton!"

"Sir?"

He turned around to see Lipton watching him with a look of concern. The man was very compassionate, much easier to work with than any of the other lieutenants. Dike nodded authoritatively at him. "First Sergeant, the line has moved."

Lipton glanced over his shoulder. "I don't think it has, sir. This is how we get down every night."

Dike blinked. "In which case, who authorized the new cover?"

"No one, sir." Lipton cleared his throat. "Can I offer you some advice, sir?"

Dike frowned. "Take me to my foxhole. Certainly."

Lipton didn't move. "Today, sir, when doubt creeps in... Choose hope."

"I beg your pardon?"

"When fear creeps in... Choose faith." He pressed a fist to his chest. "When skepticism creeps in... Choose trust. Find a way."

Dike tilted his head, intrigued. "Is this what you tell the men?"

"Absolutely, sir." He began backtracking toward the base camp. "Today, compete with nobody except yourself. Push yourself to be your best. Not to meet somebody elses best. Your best — your gift — is needed."

Dike hurried after him, snow clumping up in his boots. "That's wise advice." It was also perhaps the nicest thing anyone had said to him since Colonel Sink had complimented him on his parade stance.

Lipton shrugged, adjusting his rifle on his shoulder. "Well, you know. Be a leader or a follower. Either one works. If you follow — follow like a leader. If you lead — do it for your followers. Not for you."

Dike stopped in his tracks, his eyes suddenly moist — a reaction he regretted instantly, as it made his eyes that much colder. Lipton turned and looked at him. "Sir? Are you all right?"

"Yes," he said gamely, and sallied forth after Lipton. "Yes, I am. Thank you, First Sergeant."

"You ain't gotta do it yourself, baby," Lipton said, serious as ever.

Norman Dike was no longer lost.


End file.
